


Angles

by Yalu



Series: spn_verse challenges [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Kindness, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles for Challenge #25 at the <a href="spn-verse.livejournal.com">spn_verse</a> landcomm. </p><p>Prompts: Kindly, Jobless, Report, Chance, Memory, Detail<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Good Gent

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Kindly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wayward or not, Balthazar is still an angel.

The noise from the nightclubs is pounding as always, and Jessie huddles deeper into her stolen overcoat, wishing for a fire that wouldn't be seen by the coppers. There's a bite in the air – snow by next week, she'll bet her good hand on it.

A group walk by, hot guy arm-in-arm with three girls in skimpy clothes that glitter, giggling and kissing. Jessie jangles her cup anyway, eyes cast down out of habit. Three, maybe four coins are rolling around inside.

The feet stop just past her and a shoe scuffs, coming closer. It's the guy, and he looks at her for half a second before going, "Oh for Dad's _sake_ , get up. There – come on, look, that building there–"

Jessie peeks up under her beanie. The man is pointing to a four-storey place with dark shops lining the pavement and mostly-shut curtains in the upper windows. "Second floor, flat 2C, little old lady name Beatrice. You'll remind her of her granddaughter. And, what-? Oh, how'd you manage _that_?" He snatches up her hand, her bad one, and for once it doesn't hurt. "Never mind, don't care, I'm sure you're not going to be doing it again."

He taps her wrist once and hauls her to her feet and her hand _doesn't hurt_. Jessie's still staring at it, flexing her fingers, when the man gives her a gentle prod in the back. "Flat 2C," he says again, "you'll be fine," and saunters off back to his glitter girls.

Whenever she tells the story later, Auntie Bea shakes her head and swears she's never met the man.

  



	2. Single Leaf on a Winter Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallen!Cas angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jobless

_Angels warriors of God. I'm a soldier._

His sword is gone – lost. His vessel is flimsy, fragile, weak. He's locked in it. He can't fly, can barely cross a room in the time it used to take to reach Pluto. He's slow, weighed down, clumsy. _Dean_ moves faster than he can.

_Angels are warriors of God._

Father has been silent for years, maybe decades. There is no cause, no goal, nothing to fight for but the vague instruction to protect His many Creations.

_I'm a soldier._

No orders, no leaders, no comrades. They're all fallen. They hate him.

He's alone.

  



	3. Antics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to figure out what his boys have been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Report

"What _happened_?" John demands, scowling and arms folded.

The boys stand still, almost at attention, looking down, silent. There isn't a mark on them but this is so weird it'd almost be easier if there was. Some evidence to work with, then.

"I come back, you're _gone_ , there's blood on the machete and doughnuts on the chair."

Still nothing. Dean's lip twitches. Sam glances at him through shaggy hair. They look down again at the same time.

"Pastor Jim's had four calls about strange noises during mass."

Sam giggles – covers it. Dean snickers.

John sighs.

He never does find out.

  



	4. The Opportune Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to find the best time to talk to Cas. Destiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chance

That pirate movie a couple of years ago, with Captain Jack – had this line about 'the opportune moment'. The best time to try something, say something.

It wasn't when Cas was still trying to figure out shaving and somehow nicked the tip of his nose.

It wasn't when Cas was down and moping about having _only_ human strength now (Jimmy must've weight-trained, that _hurt_ ).

It wasn't when Cas tried to heal an old man's war wound and nothing happened.

When Cas quietly asked what he would do, with a new life? That was it.

Dean bit his lip. Shrugged.

_Chicken._

  



	5. The Great Alley Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cracky Cats AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Memory  
> Warning: utter crack. At least if you know the first verse of the song.

Midnight.

It's so fricking quiet Dean's ears are twitching at stuff three blocks away. He flicks his tail and steps cautiously onto the sidewalk, glaring up at the crescent moon that's peeking over his alley, mocking him.

Doesn't matter. Down the block one of the streetlamps is actually working, and the heap of dead leaves under it is suspicious. It's not moving enough, not in this breeze.

Dean sniffs, creeping closer. Oh yeah, this is it. 

He pounces. Paws first, he crashes into warm fur and there's an outraged "MROW!" as they wrestle. Dean wins, pins him down.

"Gotcha, Sammy."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First verse of _Memory_ , from _Cats_ :
> 
> Midnight  
> not a sound from the pavement.  
> Has the moon lost her memory?  
> She is smiling alone.  
> In the lamplight  
> the withered leaves collect at my feet  
> and the wind  
> begins to moan.


	6. Barking Up The Wrong Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of a hunt, Sam notices something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Detail  
> 

This skinwalker was _fast_. Insanely fast. If it wasn't so obviously a lab Sam would've sworn it was a greyhound.

He leapt, slashing with the silver knife and missed _again_ , hit the ground shoulder-first and got a mouthful of dirt for his trouble. To Sam's left Dean was rolling to his feet, knife lost but yanking their silver-loaded pistol from his waistband. The dog growled and, in the moonlight, it... shimmered.

 _Shit_. Not a skinwalker. "Dean! BLACK DOG!"

Dean's head snapped up, then he whirled around and dove for something iron. Sam scrambled – found his emergency salt pouch – and threw.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm assuming that black dogs as death omens are sort of like human death omens, and can be fought off the same way as ghosts.


End file.
